Chapter 20
Eli
The larkwood chest had been the bane of my existence all these long months. But now, I curled myself into it, wishing the lid could lock from the inside…dreading the moment it would be thrown open and leave me vulnerable and exposed.
The voices of Smeg and Pilgrim carried through the wood, despite their attempts to keep them down.
“The Red Hand will turn on us.” Smeg said. “Hospitality or not, they’re looking for someone to blame for the rotten boar.”
Pilgrim’s boots scraped across the wooden floor as he paced. “Let them come. I won’t give up my property because you’ve lost your nerve.”
“We should go now, before they decide we’ve worn out our welcome.” A thud—Smeg must have kicked something. “Give them the human. We could flay off his tattoos first, as a gesture of good faith.”
Bile rose in my throat.
“And what would that solve?” Pilgrim’s tone dropped dangerously low. “The Red Hand won’t be satisfied. The human stays with us.”
“Your pride will get us all killed—”
Pilgrim’s laugh held no humor. “This has nothing to do with pride. You think I don’t see what’s happening? How quick you are to suggest giving away what’s mine? Don’t forget who saved you from the angry mob after you nearly tore that daft boy in two.”
The silence that followed was thick with tension.
“How was I to know the whelp was the chieftain’s brat?” Smeg finally muttered.
“The human stays. And if anyone from the Red Hand comes sniffing around, we’ll be ready for them.”
“Will we?” Smeg said. “Maybe they’ve lost a few good fighters to the hobgoblins, but we’re still outnumbered, and their weapons are strong. They expect us to stay until tomorrow’s full moon, but we could leave tonight. Pack up and slip away before they have a chance to—”
“Enough.” Something shattered—probably one of the fine clay vessels the house’s previous owner had left behind. “The human is mine. No one touches him. Not the Red Hand. Not you.”
“What could possibly be worth—”
“I have plans.” Pilgrim’s words dripped with dark promise.
“Plans! Your plans always end with us limping away like a beaten cur.”
“My plans are what keep you fed.” A sharp crack—Pilgrim must have landed a solid hit on the vile toady. “Question me again, and I’ll remind you exactly what happened to the last man who did.”
The silence that followed made my skin crawl. I pressed myself deeper into the wooden chest, willing myself to become invisible. Smeg’s breathing came in short, sharp bursts.
“As you say,” Smeg finally grumbled.
“Good. Now get out of my sight. And spread the word—anyone who touches my property answers to me. And don’t pack a thing. When the full moon comes…we’re not going anywhere.”